


Out of Place

by takawbelle



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, Spirit World, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:35:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29236926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takawbelle/pseuds/takawbelle
Summary: She finally looked back. So it wasn’t something Zuko saw, but someone. A girl, not older than four, was running towards them as fast as her chubby little legs can take her. In the distance, Katara can make out the distinctive Water Tribe blue of the child’s soaked parka. Shouldn’t they have evacuated all the children by now? Her father is probably fighting-But something was niggling at the back of Katara’s mind. Something that shouldn’t be.Something out of place.
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 33
Kudos: 111





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The idea behind this fic came from the Dramione fic "Extempore" by Campy Capybara. 
> 
> Disclaimer: ATLA is not mine, will never be.

The moon, while full of the strength that powered her bending, was already beginning its descent. Katara wondered, with a surreal detachment from the battle which had just started, whether she’ll have to keep on fighting Prince Zuko until the sun goes up.

He was all spinning kicks and fierce punches but she’d seen him fight too many times - fought him herself, even - for the style and rhythm of his attacks to be considered novel. She chided herself at the misplaced pride and focused on the battle.

To her side, Aang sat serenely, his chest barely rising and the tell-tale glow of his tattoos eerily blending with the silver moonlight. She shifted her stance almost imperceptibly to put herself between Zuko and the little monk.

Feeling the surge and the unusual strength of heart that came with the fullness of the moon, she executed a gambit and was rewarded when a water tentacle slipped past Zuko’s defenses and hit him squarely on his scarred cheek. _Too bad burnt skin can’t bruise anymore_ , she though with uncharacteristic glee as he gnashed his teeth at her and increased the speed of his attacks.

Suddenly, with a waterbender’s attunement to her element, she can sense a faint rippling in the waters of the Spirit Oasis behind her. The movement became steadily stronger but she kept her eyes narrowed on Zuko, dodging his flaming kicks and countering with her own water whips which she had been growing partial to.

Judging from the unabated ferocity of his attacks, he seems to have no inkling of what was happening in the water.

Her attention was torn between duelling Zuko and observing the changes in the water. With a sinking feeling, she realized that what was lurking in the water could probably harm Aang, who was meditating only a few paces away from her.

Then, the water in the oasis erupted.

She didn’t dare look back. _Better the hungry arctic wolf you know than the one you don’t_ , Gran-Gran used to caution. Instead, Katara pressed on, driving Zuko back with a flurry of icicles.

He hesitated, his good eye widening as he stared at something past her. That momentary lapse was his undoing. With a massive shove, she channeled the waters into one surging stream. Ignoring the growing ache in her arms, Katara poured in one last ounce of force to harden the ice trapping Zuko.

For a few crystalline seconds, the silence in the Spirit Oasis was deafening.

“Daddy!”

She finally looked back. So it wasn’t something Zuko saw, but _someone_. A girl, not older than four, was running towards them as fast as her chubby little legs can take her. In the distance, Katara can make out the distinctive Water Tribe blue of the child’s soaked parka. _Shouldn’t they have evacuated all the children by now? Her father is probably fighting-_

But something was niggling at the back of Katara’s mind. Something that shouldn’t be.

Something out of place.

The little girl stopped in front of the frozen, unconscious Zuko and bawled her eyes out. “D-d-daddy, I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have played with the magic water but the fishies were s-so friendly and I- I- ”

Perhaps it was the child’s frantic crying. Perhaps Zuko was just like a desperate arctic wolf who simply refused to stop until he either had his prey between his bloody teeth or a whalebone spear between his ribs. Whatever his impetus, he began stirring faintly. Without thinking, Katara dashed over to the child to drag her from who would shortly be a very irate, bloodthirsty and _awake_ firebender. The child turned in her grasp and with a sickening lurch in her stomach, Katara can now place a finger on that unsettling feeling.

While the girl was dressed in Water Tribe furs and bore the dusky complexion of Katara’s people, her eyes were an unmistakable Fire Nation gold.

Before Katara could speak, she felt the amplified grace of Tui gently recede. As soon as Agni’s rays touched her, she hurriedly mustered a shield from the puddles around her but it was too late. The blast of fire was too strong.

The last thing she heard before collapsing from bone-deep exhaustion and Zuko’s sudden attack was his smug rasp.

“You rise with the moon. I rise with the sun.”

___________

Through the blizzard he trudged, weighed down with more than just the physical weight of a child considered as the world’s last hope. Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation wondered if what was truly weighing him down were the expectations heaped on the Avatar’s slight shoulders by a world bitter at being made to wait too long for balance.

Or perhaps the weight did not come from the frail boy Zuko carried. Maybe the true weight came from the kingdom he left behind and the crown he may not inherit after all.

Gritting his teeth, he cast aside those shameful musings. _Treasonous thoughts for the future Fire Lord._ Against his wildest hopes, he spotted a little cave in the distance. His first thought, brought about by hunger and fatigue - _why did that little peasant have to fight like the girls from the Royal Fire Academy?_ \- was that he was experiencing the North Pole version of a mirage. Maybe the extreme cold triggered his brain to long for pleasant diversions to make his last moments more bearable. He imagined his uncle sorrowfully discovering his body trapped in a block of ice. With a defiant snort, he slowly made his way inside, taking care not to bump the Avatar’s head against the rocky wall. Almost suddenly, the cutting wind was gone. Only the forlorn whistling of the wind reminded Zuko of how far they were from capture.

Or help.

He carefully laid the Avatar on the ground, bitterly noting that this was already the second time he was able to acquire the sole living, breathing reason he’d be allowed back home. Unlike paper-thin tickets to the royal kabuki theater, the chance to regain his honor won’t easily be blown away by the winds of chance this time.

He sank to the ground and leaned his back against the wall. Uncle’s words came back to him: _Firebending power comes from the breath._ With the slow, measured breaths acquired through years of practice and Iroh’s gentle but annoying chiding, Zuko finally let down all his mental guards and allowed himself to think of the intriguing half-nation girl.

At first, he thought the girl simply strayed from the hut where they might have kept women and children. Even the Fire Nation Manual of Military Etiquette version 2 dictated that women and children are to be kept separate from the fighting, preferably two kilometers away. Conversely, the next provision demanded absolute honor from the home army in dealing with enemy women and children.

Already he can hear Azula’s voice chiding him less affectionately and more derisively: _But oh, Zuzu, you were always a sucker for those tales of fantasy where intelligence is suspended and the prince wins in the end. Tell me, you were waiting for a happy ending, weren’t you?_

He quietly murmured to his sister who was thousands of miles away, probably in some war meeting, unburnt: “You were right, Azula. I was waiting for a happy ending. I just want to go home.”

He closed his eyes and reconstructed the little girl in his mind’s eye. The Water Tribe coloring was unmistakeable, but the details, though subtle, still caught his eye ( _hence the lapse in my attention_ , he thought with a grimace, still feeling the ache in various places where the peasant’s well-timed ice hold pressed too deep). For one, the child’s jaw was too sharp, too highly lifted to be from someone of Water Tribe descent. The way she carried herself even while running spoke of the grace drilled into nobility until such became almost second skin. However, it was her eyes that caused him the greatest… worry. Warm and almond-shape, her eyes were the exact shade and shape which he faced before the mirror every morning. More than that, her eyes resembled his father and Azula’s eyes. As carefully and containedly bred as they were, there were only a small number of Fire Nation royals bearing that exact shade of gold. _Warm enough to comfort, hot enough to burn. That’s our family’s calling card, my nephew_ , hiccuped Iroh laughingly yet bitterly one time when he was drunk during music night.

For someone yearning for the semblances and reminders of princehood, a physical reminder of his family was a sharp punch to the gut. (Iroh was excluded as he practically hovered too often around Zuko for the latter to ever mentally step back and fill the gaps with longing and imagination.)

And, much as he would not want to admit it, the frantic expression in the girl’s eyes also reminded of how desperately he must have pleaded with his father to do away with the Agni Kai three years ago.

_Who was she?_


	2. Chapter 2

Hale and hearty in this arctic climate, the two trees barely shivered in the passing breeze as Fire Lady Katara of the Water Tribe knelt at the edge of the Spirit Oasis. A decade ago, she was duelling her future husband in this same peaceful glade. She recalled with a thoughtful expression one of General Iroh’s many platitudes: _destiny works in mysterious ways._

Behind her, Crown Princess Izumi was fidgeting. Katara expressionlessly glanced back. To casual observers, the gesture was that of a queen merely turning to the source of the slight commotion. To the courtiers stationed in the Fire Palace for the last five years, that look meant a simple but comprehensive reprimand which, given the Fire Nation concept of honor, compelled the unworthy recipient to look for new employment by daybreak. (The Fire Lady’s peculiar way of insisting that they need not leave, only improve, was only met with disbelieving stares and even more hurried shuffling outside the palace gates.) To Izumi, though, that glance meant only half of her usual steamed rice buns after dinner. Truly, a fate worse than memorizing the Fire Nation Manual of Military Etiquette version 2.5. The horrifying thought stiffened her spine and she stared straight ahead as she was taught to.

Respecting the rules didn’t make everything that followed any easier.

Her mother softly intoned the ceremonial words: “O gentle spirit of Tui, we give this humble offering of our best desires. O strong wave of La, we give this humble offering of our purest hopes. May the waves take what you deem worthiest.” She bowed and pushed towards the edge of the Spirit Oasis the offerings, a combination of Fire Nation abundance and Water Tribe ingenuity. Freshly ground fire flakes were secured in a bundle of finely-meshed fishing nets. Delicately-pickled sea prunes were gently sloshing inside a jar of gold retrieved from the Fire Nation royal treasury. The newly-milled rice was in a small sack, also made by artisans from the South Pole. A few other items can be observed: whalebone spears, whalebone needles with gleaming points, a rare snow lily picked after a treacherous journey an hour from the Northern Water Tribe capital. The Fire Lady’s personal endeavor was in the seal blubber, still warm and fragrant from being fried with fire flakes just a scant few minutes before the ceremony. All were contained in individual boxes of gold.

In the small crowd, Bato discreetly whispered to Hakoda, “Gold, gold, gold. I doubt Katara would like being _buried in all this gold_ , you know?” Hakoda snorted in agreement. While he loved the Fire Lord with a surprising warmth (one time surpassing even his love for his own son when Zuko whipped together a seal blubber stew when Hakoda had too much sake) he felt the opulence of Fire Nation living would stifle his only daughter. Jewels and finery were not Katara’s type and while these never, for a single instance, figured in her marriage with Fire Lord Zuko, Hakoda knew his daughter enough to know that well-meaning baubles were one of his daughter’s pet peeves.

As the ceremony went on, a flash of silver caught Izumi’s eye. Cautiously eyeing the attendees and satisfied that they had they eyes respectfully closed, she inched towards the pond. Two koi fishes, one black and other white, were circling each other almost playfully. Pretenses abandoned, Izumi leaned closer. The fishes stopped circling and, in a manner that was almost human, watched her. Izumi even swore the black one blinked at her mischievously. _They want to play!_ she thought gleefully. She ran her hand across the surface of the pond, beckoning the magic fishes.

Master Pakku cracked an eye open, his waterbending senses suddenly alerted. He snapped upright and stiffened like Izumi but for a different reason. He raised one hand to counter the force surging from the bottom of the pond but for the first time in his life, the water refused to do as bidden.

The pond erupted and the attendees screamed. Like Pakku, other waterbenders – the Fire Lady included – quickly assumed their stances at the ready. Like Pakku, not one of them was able to command their element in that moment.

When the water receded, the Crown Princess was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

In the Spirit World, Aang bowed respectfully to the spirit before him. If he felt any trepidation at exposing his back and neck to Koh the Face Stealer, Aang didn’t show it.

“My old friend, the Avatar. It’s been a long time.” Koh was stealthily encircling him. “Come to think of it, it has been so long since humans other than you or your past selves had trodden the Spirit World. I recall meeting a rather distraught Fire Nation prince looking for his recently deceased son. Before that, I, uh, borrowed Kuruk’s bride. He didn’t take that nicely, oh no.” He chuckled at the last thought, little puffs of air making the hairs on Aang’s neck stand up.

“But,” said Koh, his oily tone changing from banter to genuine contemplation, “I sensed another human’s presence just a while ago, before you arrived. A most curious presence, indeed, even though she only passed through this world in a flash. In fact, I would even daresay you know her.”

Aang’s eyebrows twitched in worry a split-second before Koh rounded on him. Did Katara enter the Spirit World after him?

“Ah, in your time, Avatar, that child would be an anomaly. An abomination, even. But she does not come from your time of lopsided conflict and petty grievances. She comes from a time of balance.”

It was taking everything Aang had not to react, to show any curiosity. In a flat tone, he dared to ask, “How can I know her if she comes from a time of balance? Balance is what my world needs right now.”

“Ah, balance. You Avatars are always so obsessed about it but so lazy in figuring out how to achieve it. But very well, I shall humor you because human company, especially the Avatar’s, is so hard to come by these days.” Koh whispered in his ear. “Just one clue: that human is a child of steam.”

“Of steam?”

Koh rolled his eyes. “Yes, Avatar. Of steam. How does one create steam?”

“You take fire and water –”

“Correct.” Koh grinned at him with a shark’s face, pointed teeth gleaming.

“But who –”

“I will say no more. You seem to have forgotten your true purpose for seeking me out,” chided Koh with a Fire Nation noblewoman’s face. “So, how may I help you?”

Pushing the intriguing thought of the child and the balance of her world, Aang got down to business.

__________

Katara absentmindedly knelt on the grass, the crown of the Fire Lady discarded beside her. Her husband was hugging her tightly, his characteristic warmth seeping into her when it was most needed. However, she still felt ice-cold. For all his heat, Fire Lord Zuko himself shivered. She did not need him to voice out the same questions playing a sickening loop in her mind.

_What just happened? Where is our daughter?_

She experimentally crooked a finger, watching as a puddle of water twirled upwards gracefully before splashing back down in accord with her wishes. For a second, she hated the blessing that was her waterbending. It failed to work at the one moment in her entire life when she needed it the most.

Sokka strode over to her and silently draped a robe to keep out the chill. Beside him was the shaman who minded the Spirit Oasis. The shaman bowed low and began, “Master Katara, your daughter is alive, I can sense it. But she’s not here.”

“Obviously," growled Katara. "So where is my daughter?”

The shaman took a deep breath, as if steeling himself. “It’s not where, but when.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Koh basically called Izumi a steam baby.


End file.
